First Glance

The first impression, that I had of Paris was from Harrison Ford’s “ Sabrina”. Anyone who has seen either the old or the more recent version of Sabrina would understand what I am talking about; a small café, romantic moonlight accompanied with equally romantic music, cobbled streets and most importantly; “la vie en rose”.
However the first thing I noted upon arriving here, was, people are thin. Not only that,there seems to be an awful shortage of color here. Even on a hot sunny day, people prefer to wear grey, black, brown and white clothes. Wearing my yellow, orange and purple tops I sometimes felt quite a bit odd.
Secondly, the cafes are expensive. The most common dream of every tourist who even thinks of visiting Paris, of reading a book, sitting in a café, drinking warm coffee and hopefully eating some kind of rich chocolate pastry, doesn’t become a reality unless you are related to someone majorly rich in some small way. The furthest I reached was to drink a fifty cent coffee from a vending machine. I did have my Reader’s Digest.
Louvre as a museum is large but if one’s French is inadequate then all fun is lost. Unless some knowledge of the major artists and their works are unknown, the visit is pretty much pointless. “The Mona Lisa” seems like a miniature version of the original because the crowd never thins around the famous work. But even from the distance, her smile captivates any humane person.
However, above all this, Paris is a city bubbling with history, mystery and life. Waking up at three in the morning, you can still hear the sudden breaks of fast cars, or the loud laughter of the drunk. Like Delhi, this city also has the tendency, to never be quiet. The cobbled streets, the tiny cafes all exist but what makes me fall in love with the city are the people- the old couple on the bench, who despite not knowing my language, smile at me as I cross them on my way to the supermarket, the lady who lives downstairs with two tiny dogs, who invariably have to lick my feet, so now every time she sees me, she tries to hold on to her dogs, the hundreds of anonymous people, noticing the fact that I look a little confused let me go ahead of them to the counter in the markets, and lastly, the vegetable vendor downstairs, acknowledging the fact that I am a foreigner, gives the customary “ bonjour” a miss for a simple “ ‘allo”, with a welcoming smile.